


Your marks on my hips, wonderful like love

by Nen (Nenchen)



Series: Our love on our skins [2]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Anal Sex, Aziraphale Has a Penis (Good Omens), Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Bottom Aziraphale (Good Omens), Bottom Crowley (Good Omens), But like only mild mentions so it can get resolved with patience and communication and love, Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Emotional Sex, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Love, M/M, Marking, Marks, Penetrative Sex, Rough Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Sex, Soft Aziraphale (Good Omens), Soft Crowley (Good Omens), Top Aziraphale (Good Omens), Top Crowley (Good Omens), Trauma, general softness, ineffable stamina, they're switches bitches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-08
Updated: 2020-04-08
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:40:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23550076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nenchen/pseuds/Nen
Summary: Aziraphale's body is changing. A good time to discover a new kink!(Nothing to worry about here, it's all about the soft.)
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Our love on our skins [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1694944
Comments: 33
Kudos: 132





	Your marks on my hips, wonderful like love

**Author's Note:**

> This is a continuation of my fic [Your love on my skin, beautiful like stars](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23493835). You don't have to read it first, but minor parts won't make sense without it, and reading this first will mildly spoiler you. So go read it, it's shorter and very soft.

The first time Crowley saw Aziraphale’s angel marks was in a public bath. He’d barely had any time to look at them though, before the Angel made an observation about his own, leading to an afternoon spent in bed.[1]

Their undercover meetings after that all happened with both of them covered up.

So, it was only after the apocalypse, on a sunny afternoon spent in bed, under the covers,[2] that Crowley saw the marks again.

They were beautiful.

Like rivers, no, veins of gold, almost hidden, running through his skin all around his hips and stomach and thighs.

Stretchmarks, that’s what a human would call them. Associated with riches and power and beauty in many cultures present and past and, if he had any say in it, future. Angel marks, marks of ethereal power, in places where humans got them because of softness. They suited his angel perfectly.

He was awestricken, that afternoon, flummoxed enough to whisper observations to himself, which didn’t escape the angel’s trained hearing. It led to blushes and soft kisses and hands running along the other’s body. Which, in turn emboldened him enough to follow the path of his hands with kisses, until the angel was gasping and pulled him up for another soul-deep kiss.

More kisses and cuddles and compliments followed, until the demon felt very golden himself, warm and shiny and sought after and _precious_.

The second time he saw the angel marks was both much and nothing like the first time.

Again, they were in bed, and again there were kisses and hands running over bodies and whispered endearments. But instead of unagitated, leisure enjoyment of the other’s closeness, now, there was agitation. A desperate longing in the kisses, a building need, a want wanting to be fulfilled.[3]

It ended with Crowley desperately holding onto the angel’s hips as he went deeper, harder, faster, oh yes my dear. Until they both tipped over that peak and were, again, snuggling, sated, satisfied, spent, a bit sticky and supremely happy.[4]

First times were followed by countless of others. Things were learned, surprises were had, and boundaries were set. Though all of it was wrapped in so much love that sometimes it was almost hard to breathe, the air thick with it, joy filling lungs until hearts overflowed. It should have been sickening to a demon like him, but Crowley had found he wasn’t quite that demonic anyways. Hadn’t been in forever, actually. He’d chosen earth and angel over hell a long time ago and never regretted it. Especially not now.

Their time together had changed Aziraphale. He was more relaxed these days, unafraid to ask for anything, indulging in what he wanted without ever looking over his shoulders anymore. Relaxed open smiles and kisses in broad daylight, and sometimes more. They’d both had some fantasies about a certain apple tree after all, and why not act on some of them when they had a perfectly nice, available and secluded apple tree.

It was on one of these occasions that Crowley noticed the other change for the first time. They were outside, on a picnic blanket in the half-shadow of the apple tree, where the picnic had devolved into indulgence of another kind. Crowley was riding the angel, holding on for his dear life just below the angel’s ribs as his beloved beneath him drove up into him, and Crowley met every thrust with frantic twists of his hips, looking to hit _that_ spot perfectly over and over and over again. He was immeasurably close, and thus couldn’t quite control the movement of his head anymore, his whole body coiling into itself, not like a snake but a spring wound up and ready to go off.

Now he didn’t look at the angels face anymore, but at their joined hips, at his own hands digging into the angel’s flesh, twitching with every thrust into him. The image of this and of the point where they met was enough to almost drive him out of his mind, so that he could only faintly wonder what his brain was telling him with the words “seems dull”. Nothing about the angel was dull. He looked up, intending to ask Aziraphale about it, since the angel sometimes could almost read his mind.

However, the blissed-out expression on the angel’s face didn’t leave much room for thought, or articulating those thoughts beyond the “Angel, you, oh fuck” he barely got out as his orgasm slammed through him, the angel following closely.

It was only when his senses slowly came back to him afterwards, cuddled to the side of his angel (the left one, of course) and snapping them both clean, that his mind circled back to his previous thoughts. He glanced down his lovers’ body and frowned. This didn’t go unnoticed by the angel, since usually his expressions at seeing the other were far from a frown, especially after certain activities.

“Something wrong?” he asked, half worried, half displeased stiff lip.

Crowley’s head snapped back up immediately to soothe both of those concerns with a deep kiss.

“Nothing _wrong_ , angel,” he said then. “Just… don’t your marks seem a bit. Dull?”

He sat up to get a better look at them. Indeed, the sun falling on the golden veins was barely reflected. They almost looked painted on. Not quite real.

“Oh yes, I’d imagine. It seems they are starting to fade.” Aziraphale uttered in a far too calm voice.

So Crowley had to be the one fretting over this now, didn’t he?

“Ng Wha - Fading?! Angel, what the fuck. Why didn’t you tell me? We have to find out what that means! What if it’s heaven taking away your powers? What if it’s worse? What if…”

He trailed off. _What if you are falling, because of this, because of me_ was what he couldn’t bring himself to say. But as it was so often the case, Aziraphale knew how to read words left unspoken from his face. Which he took into his hands gently as he kissed him, softly, calm and quite wonderfully, until Crowley’s tense back relaxed in his hold. Only then he spoke up again.

“Well, I don’t think it’s worth worrying about. I figured it must be the same as with yours.”

Crowley stared at him. Gobsmacked.

“What do you MEAN same as mine? Mine were _burnt out of my very core_ , and then god decided, you know what would be fun, ah let’s just make them go away and take the last bit of good memories he had connected to heaven. You’re still an angel. That’s not how it’s happening with you.”

I won’t let that be it was what he left unsaid. He could bear that pain, but he couldn’t bear to see the angel go through it.

The angel hummed, hugging him closer.

“You see my dear, while that’s certainly a theory, I don’t think it is quite accurate. Last I checked, everyone in hell still had their marks. Very prominently featured even. Not faded at all. And I really don’t see a reason for her to hurt you, out of all of them, more than any of the others. You are, after all, quite a wonderful being.”

Here, he had to silence some indignant stuttering on Crowley’s part with a kiss.

“Hush, dear, let me tell you the whole thing first and then you can argue. Let me ask you this. You first noticed your marks fading when we met in the bath, that time, right?”

Crowley nodded, silent.

“And for a few decades before that, you started to make a home for yourself here, correct? I remember, you bought a house and got to know your neighbors and enjoyed earth. And didn’t do quite as, well, conventional demonic wiles.”

Crowley nodded again.

“So, one might say you chose earth over hell. To be where you wanted to be, your side, so to speak.”

Another nod.

“And you remember, hopefully, that that’s also what I did, almost a decade ago now. Choosing earth and you, that is. So really, I think it’s not that heaven is doing something to me. But more that heaven doesn’t really have any purchase on me any longer. I belong here now, with the humans and you, and not with them. And before you say any more, I have not noticed any fading of my powers or any other changes really, so I really think I got it puzzled out.”

He beamed proudly. Crowley still stared, mind racing. It made sense. All too much sense. Connections he had never seen, overshadowed by pain and fear, were now illuminated in a new light.

He hadn’t noticed he was crying until Aziraphale pulled him closer and softly wiped the tear streaks off his face with the pad of his thumb, the other hand gently petting his hair.

He couldn’t quite speak, no, couldn’t quite say what this meant to him, the relief and joy it brought for the angel and himself too.

“I know,” Aziraphale whispered into his hair. “I know.”

* * *

Years passed, and the marks kept fading. And even though Crowley was still on the watch, waiting for the other shoe to drop, his anxiety was fading too. And if, after a night of rough love, they discovered something new, well. There was something to be said about sprucing up the routine.

They had too much wine, that evening, too much for humans but too little to sober up. Just enough to be very enthusiastic, sloppy, messy and just in general not careful. On Aziraphale’s favorite, hideous, tartan and way too comfortable chair, Crowley sat with a lapful of angel, both rocking into each other as Crowley held onto the angel’s hips to ground himself. He was shaking from his 5th orgasm of the evening, unable to do anything but hold and rock and bury his face between Aziraphale’s shoulder blades. He tensed as the next one built and built and then climaxed, the feeling spreading through his whole body almost painfully. His fingers were clenching, keeping the angel in his lap as he, too, doubled over and almost fell from the force.

They decided that this was quite enough for one evening, and went to bed, where they cuddled before they both fell asleep, drunk and drunk on love and post-orgasmic bliss, and didn’t quite think of all of their usual aftercare.

The next morning, Crowley found his angel in front of the mirror, staring at himself with an expression that was quite hard to decipher, and the bruised indents of four long fingers on each side of his hips. Right where the heavenly marks were, still. You could barely make them out now, with the dark purple marks standing out against pale white skin.

“Sorry, angel, didn’t realize I hadn’t healed them. I can do it now?”

Aziraphale turned and gave him one of his sunrise smiles.

“Actually, dear, I think I’d like to keep them. Shall we have breakfast?”

“Yeah, let’s.”

A few years back, Crowley would have been surprised by the angel telling him something like this. But then again, a few more years back he wouldn’t have thought to ever get to know such things about his angel. So instead of flustered sputtering, overthinking and overachieving, he simply made both of them a quick breakfast and approached the topic again _after_ he’d had his coffee.

“So. You like those.”

He nodded his head in the general direction of Aziraphale’s hips.

“Yes, I do, dear.”

“Would you like more of those in the future?”

He grinned at Aziraphale’s alarmed expression.

“Not right now ,angel, I know they are tender and you’re usually not one for that kind of stuff. Which is great, because neither am I, remember? No, I meant on future occasions.”

The angel pursed his lips to his thinking expression. Honestly, it was adorable. Crowley once joked that he should be sticking out the tip of his tongue too, which had somehow spectacularly backfired on him with one of the weirdest erections he’d ever had.

“Well. I haven’t quite figured out what I like about them, so I can’t answer that yet. I will tell you when I come to a conclusion, my dear.”

“Well, alright then.”

And thus, breakfast was continued.

* * *

About a week later, the topic came up again, this time in bed.

Crowley currently sat in one of the best spots of their house, on his angel’s arse to be precise. Aziraphale lay underneath him on his stomach, moaning. The angel loved to indulge in every wonderful earthly pleasure, and massages were certainly one of them. And Crowley liked to indulge him.

Crowley was pressing his hands into the angels back in an outward motion, spine to sides. The angel’s delightful delighted noises and happy little wiggles made him think that online course had really paid off.

“Ah that feels truly sublime, dear.”

He lightly skimmed his hands along the angel’s sides and got a full on groan out of him.

“Hmmm. That reminds me, I have been thinking about the marks. And I came to the decision, that I would like very much to have some again. Not all the time, mind you, you know how much I appreciate being comfortable, but sometimes. If you’d be amenable, of course.”

Crowley hummed, his fingers lightly tapping along the spine, all the way up to his neck and all the way down again. He’d guessed as much when the marks had still been there days after he left them. But he knew, some things needed to be completely thought through before the angel said something. And he was always happy to wait. Waiting was a calm thing now. They had all the time they wanted.

“I’d be amenable angel. Mind telling me what exactly you liked about having them?”

He leaned forward to plant a kiss at the base of Aziraphale’s neck, where a flush began to creep outwards. He continued leaving a trail of kisses down his spine for good measure, while massaging the angel’s shoulders. A bit of stretching for himself, combined with the angel sighing underneath him. Sometimes he was blindsided by how happy he was.

“Ah. Well. You know how it is.”

Crowley kept his mouth shut. No sense in hurrying the angel when his mouth had so many other tasks to be getting on with. Like following the spine back up again. He dropped a kiss into the angel’s hair for good measure. Which is why he heard the explanation the angel muttered into the pillow.

“They were on my old marks. And they were just… so much more pronounced. It was like physical proof that I belonged to you over them now.”

“Oh, angel.”

Crowley placed another kiss in the angel’s locks and rolled off him.

“Come here,” he said, arms wide to initiate a good cuddling. They scooched together until Aziraphale’s head was buried against Crowley’s torso.

“No need to be so coy about that, angel. I understand perfectly well.”

“You do?” came the muffled response. “Is it the same with my kiss marks?”

Crowley laughed softly.

“Yes and no. I love you leaving those, but it’s more of a reminder of you and me. No one else involved. But seeing my marks on you, over the old ones. That, uh, made my brain pretty much go down the same road as yours. And I also liked that a lot.”

He felt Aziraphale place a kiss on his sternum.

“Jolly good. Or, as you would say, terrific.”

“Oi!”

This day had ended in laughter and cuddling and not much else. They had learned that both of them needed some time to think about new things and how to work them in. But again. They had all the time in the world. And cuddling was no less wonderful than any other expression of their love.

* * *

The day they tried it the first time had started like any other. The sun was shining warm on their porch, so they’d shared breakfast on their porch, then Crowley had gotten some gardening done while Aziraphale read in the shadow of the peach tree. Occasionally Crowley had strayed from his path to exchange soft kisses. They had both snacked on the peaches for lunch, the ripe, juicy fruit delicious and warm. Crowley cooking dinner had led to Aziraphale calling him nice, which was always just some fluttering eyelashes and quick consent away from Crowley having him up against a wall.

Crowley held the angel up by his thighs and was slowly rocking into him, his pace almost torturous while Aziraphale had his legs wrapped around Crowley’s narrow hips, not letting him move away too much.

“Still think I am nice, angel?” Crowley growled into the angel’s ear with a grin.

“Ah, yes, actually. Quite nice and,” Crowley hit a spot that made Aziraphale moan unabashedly “quite accurate too, it seems.”

Crowley actually had to pause and hide his face in the crook of the angel’s neck to keep from snickering too much.

He readjusted his grip on the angels thigs to get better leverage again and dug a bit into them. The angel shivered in response. So, of course, as he started rocking into the angel again, he also dug his fingers in in time with his thrusts. But as Crowley started to near his climax, it got harder to control the strength. A particularly forceful squeeze made Aziraphale jump.

“Shit. Sorry angel, I’ll loosen it up.”

He quickly kissed the angel to soothe the sting. When he drew back, Aziraphale’s expression was considering.

“Actually, my dear, if you’d be up for it, I’d quite like you to mark me again.”

Crowley stilled.

“You sure?”

“Only if you would also like to, of course.”

Crowley hummed, as if he was considering. Still not moving, until the angel squirmed. Then he laughed.

“Yeah, I’d like to.”

And with that, he tightened his hold and started moving again, softening their ragged sounds with another tender kiss. The really nice part of being an angel and a demon engaged in a relationship, was that they could control their bodies well enough to keep themselves from ending things before they wanted to.

So, it was only after almost two hours and a mind-blowing climax, when Aziraphale changed into his nightshirt,[5] that Crowley saw his masterpiece. The thrill at seeing the lines of his fingers, only reddened for now but surely dark in the morning right over the angel’s marks did not lessen the second time. And, judging by Aziraphale’s eyes lingering on his form in the mirror, it was the same for him.

“Come to bed, _my_ angel?” Crowley asked.

Aziraphale turned and beamed.

“Of course, _my_ dear.”

He sighed as he snuggled into Crowley’s open arms.

“I needed that.”

Now, had Crowley not been attuned to the tiniest changes in the angel’s behavior and voice, he might have taken this as “The orgasm was great, thank you very much, my good old-fashioned lover boy.” But since he _knew_ the angel, he sat up a bit straighter.

“Something wrong?” he probed.

“Not wrong, per se,” the angel sighed, snuggling in a bit more.

“Just, you know. Sometimes I just think of things, or a memory comes up and for a moment I feel like I did back then with them. And the physical reminder that that’s very much past was just what I needed this evening.”

Crowley let out a relieved sigh. They had talked about this a lot. His own big bag of baggage too. It was a piece of work to be free and free-willed. But Aziraphale had gotten quite good at actually talking about it now. Still, Crowley asked. Because he knew. Progress was not linear and sometimes you fell back into old patterns.

“You sure? Remember you can talk about anything.”

Aziraphale smiled and pulled him into a kiss.

“I know, my dear. And I shall. I honestly don’t think I realized I felt like that, before the thought of the marks prompted it. And no, not in the “I am ignoring it” way but in the “It’s almost insignificant” way. Thank you for checking in.”

“Always, angel. And for the record I am more than happy to overwrite their claim on you any time you want me to. We could go with hickeys the next time?”

Aziraphale’s face lit up with an expression of utter delight and mischief.

“Ohh, let’s!”

Crowley couldn’t help himself and pulled the angel up for another kiss. Long and sensual. It truly was ridiculous how in love he was. And even more unbelievable, how much it was mutual.

And as he lightly skimmed his fingertips over the fresh bruises on the angel’s hips, he knew that while his marks would fade quicker than heaven’s, still, his were here to stay, because he was.

Eternally and always and forever.

**Author's Note:**

> 1  Crying. It had been the moment Crowley had realized his own, burnt out marks were fading and it hadn’t gone over well.[return to text]  
> 2 With a song of a queen coverband playing. [return to text]  
> 3 And an angel, wanting to be filled very much too, get the behind me right this instant foul fiend, please and thank you.[return to text]  
> 4 Or stoked, as the angel had listed when the demon hadn’t found a fitting word for the alliteration.[return to text]  
> 5 Ridiculous tartan flannel. Crowley loved it for the softness and warmth and it being so utterly Aziraphale.[return to text]  
> Come visit my tumblr at [goodduckingomens](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/goodduckingomens). Comments and Kudos very much motivate me, so please leave some if you had fun. Keysmash comments appreaciated for the true Crowleys out there.


End file.
